


My Bag is Packed

by abluevixen (knightofbows)



Series: | January 2016 Prompt Challenge | [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Author!Stiles, Daddy!Derek, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Papa!Stiles, daughter!Talia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6153343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightofbows/pseuds/abluevixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has to leave *again*.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Bag is Packed

“I hate this, you know.”

Stiles looked up from where he sifted through a dresser drawer, and smiled sheepishly. When Derek moseyed up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing a kiss to the side of his neck, Stiles sighed, “I know. I know you do, and I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to apologize, Stiles,” Derek murmured. He pulled aside Stiles’ shirt collar and dragged parted lips along the shivering, exposed flesh. “I never say it to get an apology. I just…I miss you when you’re gone.”

“I miss you,” Stiles insisted, turning in Derek’s embrace. “You and Talia. The bed is too big and cold, and my mornings are way too quiet.”

It was the cost of moderate fame and success: write a best-selling novel, and the publisher tosses the author on a plane to fly them around the country for promotional purposes. Stiles hadn’t meant for his half-cocked crack at fiction to mean anything, not really. He’d just wanted better stories to tell his daughter at bedtime. Apparently, he wasn’t the only parent who recognized how lacking children’s books were. Now he was contracted for four stories, press releases, signings…which meant time away from his family, and the little girl who was his inspiration and motivation.

“These night flights are awful,” Derek said, resting his forehead against his husband’s. “She wakes up in the morning and searches the house for you, no matter how many times I tell her you’ve gone on another trip.”

“It’s only a few weeks this time,” Stiles answered. “And my evenings should be empty, so I can Skype you—”

“Papa?”

Stiles peeked over the barrier of Derek’s shoulder to the small girl standing at the threshold of their bedroom. The sadness in her bright eyes—her daddy’s eyes—and her sleep rumpled hair, how she clung so desperately to her beloved stuffed dog brought each fracture of Stiles’ breaking heart into keen focus. “What are you doing out of bed, baby girl?” he asked, soft and sweet.

“You’re leaving again…”

Derek stepped aside, stepped into the background as Stiles knelt in front of their daughter. It was always hardest on Talia when Stiles left—both her fathers knew it—but there was only so much comfort Derek could provide. Much like Derek’s wolf, Talia’s saw Stiles as an anchor, as safety, as the Thing That Made Everything Okay.

“I’ll only be gone a little while,” Stiles reassured her. “And Daddy will be here for you, like always, okay?”

“But _you_ won’t be here.”

Stiles chided, “Daddy’s French toast is just as good as Papa’s. You’ll be fine.”

“He’s terrible at stories.”

Derek sighed, and even with his back to his husband, Stiles knew he rolled his eyes. “I’m adequate at stories,” he groused.

“Then why does Papa have to leave to tell his stories and you’re stuck here?” Talia demanded. Despite her argument—impressive for her age—the tears welled in her eyes and her voice wobbled. “If you were good at stories, _you’d_ fly away all the time!”

“Talia,” Derek warned. He flashed his eyes at their daughter, and her amber eyes flashed in response. “I know you’re upset, but that’s not a reason to be mean.”

“It’s true, though!” she whimpered.

“Hush, pup,” Stiles soothed. He enveloped the little girl in his arms and easily lifted her from the floor. He propped her on his hip, a place she was nearly too big to sit comfortably, and she clung to his shoulders. He kissed her forehead and carded his fingers through her hair, carefully working out tangles. “That’s no way to talk to Daddy. He’s upset, too, okay? And so am I. No one wants me to leave.”

Talia pressed her face against Stiles’ neck, and he turned his saddened gaze to Derek, who stood with his arms folded across his chest. Stiles nodded towards the hallway, down which Talia’s room was located, and was pleased when Derek followed him there.

“I have to leave to get on an airplane soon,” Stiles said, putting Talia back in her bed. Her anxiety was palpable, even to his meager human senses, and the responding tension in Derek—his wolf _needing_ to soothe his pup—was equally evident. But Derek leaned in the doorway and let Stiles tend their daughter; and Stiles touched and kissed and spoke softly to Talia with all the affection he had in his heart until she finally, _finally_ laid down and let Stiles pull the covers over her. “I’ll call you and Daddy, okay? We’ll talk every night, and use the video chat, so I can see the pictures you draw and the clothes you picked out for the day.”

Despite this, tears tracked Talia’s face, but she sniffled and nodded.

“Is your wolf still sad, sweetie?”

Talia nodded, and reached for Stiles’ hand.

Derek let out a small, strangled whimper—a reaction from his own wolf—and without further prompting, and really, being powerless to stop himself, he crossed the bedroom and crawled into Talia’s small bed. He curled up around their daughter, his larger frame cramped, but content. Talia turned towards Derek as well, their wolves responding to one another in ways Stiles would never really understand. Talia never released her grip on Stiles’ hand, though.

“Want me to sing for you?” Stiles asked.

Talia nodded again.

“Promise to try to go to sleep?”

She nodded again. Derek rubbed her back.

“Okay,” Stiles pressed a kiss to her forehead, then sat down on the floor beside her bed. Holding her hand in his, he sang a song he remembered his mother singing. His voice would never be as warm as hers, but he tried, and hoped Talia would be eased the way he’d been as a boy. “ _Oh my bag is packed, I’m ready to go. I’m standing here outside your door. I hate to wake you up to say goodbye._ ”

Derek hummed a few lines along with Stiles, pressing his face close to their daughter’s, rubbing her back in time with Stiles’ melody. It was a sad song, lyrics too heartbreaking for Talia to really understand, but Stiles’ voice was rough, rolling waves of sound.

“ _’Cause I’m leaving on a jet plane. Don’t know when I’ll be back again. Oh, babe, I hate to go._ ” Stiles dropped the words off into humming and nonsensical sounds to carry the tune. He slowed down, looked to Derek who also seemed half asleep. “She out?”

“Like a light,” Derek murmured.

“Stay with her,” Stiles said. “She’ll be beside herself if she wakes up again and we’re both gone.” He hauled himself to his feet with the help of Talia’s bed. “I’ll catch a cab to the airport.” He leaned over the bed and kissed Derek, a little desperate, a little hungry, like longing. “I’ll call you when I land.”

Derek gave a gruff acknowledgement. “Have a good flight. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Stiles grabbed his bag and waited outside for the cab, unable to tear his gaze away from Talia’s bedroom window, the only place in the world he wanted to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2: [Prompt 21: Hardcover](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6205882)
> 
> Part 3: [Prompt 31: Under Water](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6295447)
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr: [foxtricks](http://foxtricks.tumblr.com/)


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